


Olicity Drabbles, AUs, Mini Fics.

by DearLouise3



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearLouise3/pseuds/DearLouise3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of one shots where Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak appear in a range of situations. </p><p>Prompts and strange places for Oliver and Felicity, but enough to get their emotions tumbling.</p><p>MODERN ROYALTY AU<br/>THUMB WAR AU<br/>COLOUR AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first compilation of Olicity.

MODERN ROYALTY AU

 

      It's nearing princess Felicity Smoak's eighteenth birthday and her slate of lovers was still blank. Her mother, her royal highness, grew worried that her daughter would not find a suitable partner. Of course, she didn't need one, Felicity was more than capable of ruling a country single-handedly. But she was lonely, and Felicity had admitted it herself.

      Going to a private school, she had surrounded herself with female friends, focused on her studies and prioritised the kingdom's needs over her own. But even she knew, very faintly in her sub consciousness, that she too deserved to be happy.

      "Eighteen seems so daunting, so respectable. I don't know if I even fit the average mindset of an eighteen year old. I mean, c'mon, I can't even talk right. My speech tutor spends hours scolding me for babbling nonsense," Felicity expounds to her best friend Laurel, as together they wait for their hair to be fixed.

      "Ah, Fliss, I've sat through plenty of your dull speeches and not once have you tripped up a word or gone off-topic," Laurel responds with a raised eyebrow. "Not like you usually do."

      The princess rolls her eyes and pulls her legs onto the chair, tucking her knees under her chin.

      "Those were rehearsed and I had a script in front of me the entire time," she retaliates with a sigh. "How's Tommy, by the way?"

      Laurel smiles knowingly to herself and Felicity catches her. "Tommy? He's doing great. His dad's offered him a place in his corporation after he graduates from high school. Pretty cool, huh?"

      "Really cool. You guys are so happy together."

      "I can't deny that," Laurel breathes and places a light hand on her friend's sagging shoulder. "Hey, for your eighteenth we're going to have fun. Your mom rented that awesome club and the entire grade is invited, we'll get drunk, dance and make out with tons of boys. Well, you will. Tommy will be there so . . ."

      Another sigh rattles through Felicity's body as she gets up. Her eyes are squeezed shut for a moment, a moment to let her sort her thoughts out. Then, as they peek open again, she beams and stretches.

      "Tonight is my night, and I'm going to have fun," she mutters to herself.

      "Yes. Yes you are!" Laurel cheers on and also pounces out of her chair. "We should put our outfits on-- the party starts in an hour!"

 

                                                           ***

 

      As they pull up in front of the club, paparazzi begin to swarm around the red carpet leading up to the entrance. Music can already be heard, booming from the neon-lit venue.

      The door opens and Felicity and Laurel slide out of the limousine, standing side by side and waving to the flashing cameras. They pose for a moment, showing off their stylish outfits and pampered hair before strutting down the velvet carpet. The bouncers greet them with gruff welcomes and swing the door open. Already, the stench of sweat and alcohol pours over them. Truthfully, her knees begin to tremble and a twinge of nervousness sparks in the pit of her stomach.

      "Are you alright?" Laurel screams over the throbbing music. She's already blending into the crowd, dancing fervently and losing herself to the rhythm.

      Felicity gulps and hastily counts to ten in her head. She forces a smile again and begins to shake the nervousness off. Slowly, she manages to dance in time with everyone else, belting out the lyrics to the songs and feeling liberated for the first time since a while. Nothing held her back, not even the heat and the pungent smell.

      Eventually, a mellifluous slow song fills the room and everyone grabs a partner. Felicity had downed multiple shots and her heart is racing from the alcohol.

      From across the room, Felicity catches Laurel in the arms of Tommy and she watches in awe and jealousy. It's time for her to catch her breath.

      So she escapes to the balcony where several people sit and chill while passing a joint around. Felicity acknowledges them as they wish her a happy birthday and moves on to the edge where a dark figure looms.

      Upon the arrival of her footsteps, the boy turns to see his visitor with a blank expression.

      "Oliver Queen."

      "Princess," he greets impassively and quickly returns to gazing into the smudged horizon.

      "Whatcha doing?" She asks and joins him, elbows on the rail and following his gloomy gaze.

      "Staring. As one can observe."

      "Why aren't you inside dancing like everyone else?" She peeks over her shoulder at the circle group smoking pot. "Or sharing a joint with them?"

      "Dancing's not my thing. Well, making a fool out of myself generally is not my thing. Especially when I can avoid it. And I don't smoke anything," he replies dryly and giving her a side glance. "Why are you here?"

      "It was a slow song a minute ago and as you can see," she says, gesturing around her, "I have no one to dance with. And now I'm just catching my breath." After her respond, Oliver nods acutely and continues his silent conversation with the evening sky. "So hey, I've got no one to dance with . . . you're not dancing . . . do you see where I'm going?" She prods earnestly.

      Oliver frowns and faces her. "No."

      This time it's the alcohol speaking. She didn't even have that much to drink, but as it's her first time Felicity's limits have not been met yet.

      "We should dance together!"

      His eyes widen when realisation strikes him that she is serious.

      "No."

      "Oh, come on!" She pleads, tugging at his rigid arm.

      "No."

      Becoming aware of her hopelessness, Felicity decides to go easy on him.

      "Okay, fine," she gives in with a deep sigh. "I'm too drunk to think sober anyway."

      "Why don't you ask someone else to dance with you?"

      "Because I want to dance with you," she replies, oblivious to the meaning of her words. Oliver smirks and softens, his arms relaxing under her touch. "You're very gorgeous and you have the jaw of a marble cut statue."

      "Oh yeah?" Oliver remarks with a small grin of amusement.

      Felicity nods and rests her head on his shoulder.

      "What's on your mind? You can tell me, I'm probably going to forget tomorrow morning anyway. So I'll be an excellent confidant," she assures, closing her eyes as she listens to the rumbling of his chest as he speaks.

      "I guess you're right. And I need someone to vent to as well." He pauses, hesitating. "I don't think I'll be able to carry on my dad's work. He's CEO of Queen Consolidated and one day, he expects me to live on his legacy. And I'm just a stupid eighteen year old boy who can't do anything right."

      "What makes you consider yourself as stupid?" Felicity slurs.

      "I didn't care much about his work. And now, now that I have to carry it on, I regret ever sleeping through my dad's lectures on his work. I regret ever bunking off school just to hang out with a crowd. I regret ever being naïve enough to believe that things will be sorted out through time. And now I know there just isn't enough of it."

      "Things will get better. Just as my best friend, Laurel, she's the girl dating Tommy Merlyn, says 'this too shall pass.' But you're never too late to turn your life around. And trust, me I know plenty about having to live up to your parent's legacy. My mom's the queen, jeez. I have to rule a country," she says with a dark tone. "But your mistakes don't define you, it's what you plan to do about them is what defines you."

      They were silent for a while. Simply gazing above and beyond, taking a long glimpse into what lay in the distance, Oliver experiences a pleasant warmth frothing in his body. In five minutes with princess Felicity, he had learnt a lot and felt a relief in the uplifting of burdens.

      As the hours drift by, the two stay peacefully tranquil in the midsummer night's air. They exchange casual small talk and learn small aspects of each other. Felicity takes in that Oliver's most hated colour is green, enjoys archery but is barely any good at it, has a new baby sister called Thea, never drinks alcohol and was forced to attend her birthday party by his parents.         Unbeknownst to them, the hour is near to striking midnight.

      "Is it still my birthday?" she whispers groggily.

      "Yes," Oliver replies, throat dry and husky. He ensures by flicking his wrist to read his watch. "Why?"

      "I demand a present from you," she announces, feeling the buzz of the alcohol wearing off gradually. "I want one last dance before I pass out."

      Oliver presses his lips into a thin line. "I don't know--"

      "Please? I'm not asking you to amputate a limb. Please Oliver, one dance."

      "That was rather graphic," he mumbles, avoiding Felicity's gaze. In the end, he gives in and allows her to eagerly drag him off the balcony.

      As she reaches for the door handle, however, a surge of her dinner swells inside her and erupts out of her mouth. Felicity chokes out her insides and suddenly, everything goes black.

 

                                                          ***

 

      "Princess Felicity!"

      A groan rolls out from the back of her throat. As her eyes flutter open overwhelming sunlight floods her vision, knocking her out momentarily. Oh man, she reprimands herself, is this what a hangover feels like?

      "Felicity, your breakfast is getting cold!" A shrill voice pierces the silence, followed by three loud knocks.

      She rolls out of bed, crashing onto the ice marble floor and winces at the numbness shooting up her body.

      "I'm coming," Felicity grumbles, rubbing her head. She heaves herself off the ground and scratches her behind. "Whoa," she quickly gasps as she comes tumbling down again. "Crap," face on the floor again.

      "Felicity!"

      "I'm coming, geez woman, calm your tits!"

      Footsteps pad down the corridor.

      With another annoyed groan, she rubs her eyes to obtain a sharper vision. "I hope I didn't do anything stupid last night."

      Something on the ground catches her eye. A crumpled piece of paper lay abandoned by her bed. Felicity crawls to it and unravels the small ball of paper.

      "Thanks for last night, your highness. You were pretty drunk so I doubt you remember throwing up and passing out, but before that you really knocked the senses into me. Not sure if you want to keep in contact but I'll see you in school. And here's my number."

      Underneath, in his elegant slanted writing, Oliver Queen's numbers were printed for her to keep. All loneliness that tarnish her heart and her skeptical mind evaporated, leaving her to acknowledge that perhaps she should get drunk more often.

      "I owe you a dance."


	2. THUMB WAR AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is 16 and Felicity is 15. Wrapping up a dull school excursion, the two find some way to keep themselves entertained on a boring bus ride back, involving two thumbs, two people and two pairs of warm lips.

THUMB WAR AU

 

 

      Rain spattered against the scratched windows, blurring the grey skies and dull green of the long grass. The school bus rattled as everyone rushed to get inside, fearing the thundering clouds ahead.

      ‘Alright everyone, settle down. Please put your seat belts on,’ the teacher exclaimed, his raspy voice resonating above the tired groans of the students.

      Oliver and Felicity were the last to enter, hands entwined and hair drenched. Felicity’s usually glossy blonde had transformed to matte brown and Oliver’s fine hair had stuck together. 

      All the good seats at the back of the bus were taken and the only place left for them was the front. The teachers were sat behind them, engrossed and chatting about their afternoon plans once they had returned to school.

      ‘I think I have the entire beach in my hair,’ Felicity whined as she wrenched her ponytail into her lap, the water slapping against her already soaked jeans. Her fingers combed through her clumped strands and discovered colonies of damp sand inhabiting her hair.

      Oliver smiled with a content sigh. ‘You look beautiful with the beach in your hair.’

His soft voice caused Felicity to blush. Although they had been dating for a while now, the feeling remained sharp, sending a warm, tingly sensation to shoot through her body every time. 

      The bus lurched forward, departing from the isolated sand dunes and pale savannah. The long threads of grass waved goodbye as they were homebound. The bus was noisy, as usual, containing loud bouts of screams and shouts from the back, the decibels gradually decreasing as they neared the front. The adults frequently stood up in their seats, towering over the rest of the bus and telling the class to quieten down, but the spell only worked momentarily. A brief minute of silence was followed by a shriek or another round of laughter, and the routine repeated like a cycle.

      The rough road rattled the slow-moving bus. The scenery outside had not changed for half an hour.

      I’m bored, Felicity,’ Oliver growled after a long period of silence. ‘I hate being bored.’

      ‘What do you want to talk about?’

      ‘I don’t want to talk about anything,’ he responded harshly, staring at the back of the bus driver’s head. ‘I want to do something.’

      Felicity remained silent for Oliver to do the thinking. He had a rigid pout on his face, his eyes were focused on the road vanishing beneath the bus and the faint silvery wisps of clouds to come. There were no buildings, no other cars and no colours brighter than the rusty tint of a forgotten road sign. 

      ‘Let’s play a thumb war,’ Felicity suggested, and stuck her right hand out as if she was waiting for a hand shake.

      Oliver dragged his stare away to glance at her pale hand and chipped nails. Then he peered up.

      ‘Thumb war?’

      Felicity nodded eagerly and showed him the basics, forgetting that he was never too familiar with childish games as these.

      ‘How about this,’ she added and leaned in so her lips brushed his ear. ‘If you win; you get a quick kiss.’

      The boy drew back from her hot breath and waited for the tips of his ears to cool down. Then she watched as a devilish grin spread his lips apart from the pout, confidence and determination meeting his eyes.

      ‘Don’t be too confident, I’ve got skill.’

      ‘And I’ve got motivation,’ he replied with a wink.

      The game started and less than half a minute in, Oliver’s thumb was firmly pressing Felicity’s down.

      ‘I win.’ 

      His triumphant grin was enough for her to smile too. Felicity looked around and the teacher’s were silenced by books, their noses buried in between the pages of a story. Everyone else was occupied with a music player, their phone or someone to talk to.

      A cool finger was placed on her chin, pulling her attention to the impatient boy beside her.

      ‘I’m waiting for my prize.’

      She smirked and leaned in, pressing her warm, moist lips against his tender pair. And then they were gone. 

      As Oliver’s eyes fluttered open, a dissatisfied frown pulled at his lips. 

      ‘That’s not enough,’ he whined. ‘More, please?’

      ‘Another thumb war.’

      They played another and this time, Oliver lost. His eyebrows knitted together, surprised by the unexpected consequence despite the equal chances. Felicity watched the big blue irises meet hers with a longing and desire that gave her no choice but to concede.

      She rolled her eyes and grabbed his face, fully pressing her lips against his one more time. But it was no longer short, it had developed into a fast-paced, hungry kiss asking for more and more. The salt from the beach lingered on the insides of their lips, just as the waves lingered on the shore line. Her elbows dug into the flesh of his shoulders, her hands splayed on the icy glass of the window while his were wrapped tightly around her waist. She shifted sideways so that her legs were on either side of his torso, holding him tight to her core.

      Breathless, their lips parted but their faces never moved further than an inch away.

      ‘You never fail to impress, Felicity Smoak.’

      ‘I could say the same about you, Oliver Queen.’


	3. COLOUR AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Arrow Team live in a universe where half of a couple experiences colour blindness for their whole life . . . until their partner for life enters their world. Felicity's world is a dull greyscale until Mr Queen brightens it up-- but will it stay like that forever?

COLOUR AU

 

      It was another day painted in grey scale. All around her, Felicity watched as people passed in and out of the IT department, dull black briefcases tucked under their arms, gritty grey ties and a pale, worn out face. Her world was a vapid snow globe, everything fixed in their position and the same routine and expectations pouring on top of her head over and over again. 

      She sighed, and grabbed a pen, immediately wedging it in between her teeth. The numbers on her computer didn’t make sense and her head was elsewhere.

      Someone behind her cleared their throat. ‘Felicity Smoak?’ 

      A new voice, one that she hadn’t heard before, but one all too familiar. 

      Her eyes lingered on her agenda for a second longer before tearing them away to meet her unexpected guest. They widened and she felt her throat go dry. Hastily, she took the pen out of her mouth out and swivelled to fully face him, a new being in a place where he doesn't belong.

      ‘Hi, I’m Oliver Queen,’ the young man greeted with a wry smile, his eyes slanted with a tinge of mysterious sadness. 

      ‘Of course! I know who you are,’ Felicity responded quirkily, blinking and feeling a warm smile pull across her lips. The spark of a new sensation tingled upon her skin. ‘You’re Mr Queen.’

      The wall behind Mr Queen began to fade from a dark plastery grey into another colour, a vivid cyan. Her eyes drifted from his piercing eyes, now simmering in a blue light, to her surroundings. Suddenly, she could pick out the red apple on her colleague’s desk, the yellow and pink post-it notes on the notice board and the red pen in her hand. What is this new feeling? 

      ‘Ms Smoak, is everything alright?’ 

      ‘I’m— sorry, I just had a thought. You were saying, Mr Queen?’ 

      ‘Oh no, Mr Queen is my father. You can call me Oliver.’

      ‘How can I help you, Oliver?’ She corrected, drumming her fingers on the edge of her desk with the presence of unmet joy.

      Eagerly, he presented the holed laptop and proceeded with his plan. 

      Felicity brushed away the fact that now everything around her was painted vividly with such emotion, joy, such wonder. She thought it must be her eye sight clearing up and maybe her glasses were no longer needed. Little did she know what it actually signified.

 

***

 

 

      3 years later and Felicity is hurriedly making her way out of her car one winter morning. Snow was swirling all around her, forcing her to tug the scarf around her neck tighter. She locked the car behind her and hastily made her way down the back of Verdant. 

      ‘Hey, Diggle,’ she greeted solemnly as she unbuttoned her coat. ‘It’s finally snowing outside.’

      ‘I know, Sara’s been loving it,’ he responded and dusted melted snow off Sara’s damp beanie. Felicity’s eyes crinkled as she smiled widely, pressing a chilly kiss on the infant’s tender cheek. 

      She pounced into her favourite swivel chair and spun to face her beloved screens. The foundry was silent, save for Sara’s light snores and Diggle’s occasional sighs. Roy popped in to suit up and catch the usual robbers down the road, but nothing stood out. The day went by painfully slowly as Felicity's thoughts floated elsewhere. By now, Oliver was fighting to the death to protect Thea. The last words Oliver had told her echoed in her mind, beginning at the level of whispers but gradually ascending into piercing screams. 

      ' _I love you.'_

      All of a sudden, a tinge of pain tugged at her stomach and she felt herself groaning, her face flat against the cool surface of the desk. 

      ‘Felicity, Felicity! What’s wrong?’

      ‘My stomach, I-I,’ she stuttered, her vision blurring. But one thing remained crystal clear— the metallic silver of the screen frames, the salmon pink of her nails and the glow of green above the Arrow’s suit began to fade away. They faded, quickly, quickly and then . . .

      ‘No,’ she gasped. ‘No, it can’t be.’

      ‘What Felicity, what is it?’ Diggle begged, shaking her shoulders with frantic wide eyes. 

      ‘Oliver,’ she gulped and looked up to meet Diggle’s face with fear and shock pulling at her own. ‘He’s gone.’

      ‘How do you know?’

      ‘You, me, everything, my world . . . it’s gone back to black and white. Like it was before Oliver entered it.’

      He froze, his body as still as an emotionless statue. Sarah's sweet breaths filled the pin-drop silence, such innocence to be protected from such horror her dad and his friend felt. ‘Oliver’s really gone,’ he murmured with disbelief.

 


	4. I'm Her Dad and That's That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity Smoak-- smart, witty and creative when it comes to coming up with solutions. But not very good at hiding her six month old swelling belly from the man who helped create it. 
> 
> What's the difference between a father and a dad?

 

Slouched in her foundry seat, Felicity struggled to maintain a natural disposition while disguising her swollen belly. Her blazer wasn't doing any justice, and in the sweltering heat wave combing Starling City, it looked odd and dysfunctional. Oliver or Diggle or Roy were bound to discover her hidden pregnancy sooner or later. But the question was: whose child? It was surely no other than Mr Queen himself, after a night of expressing intense emotions and a couple glasses to down. Oliver and Felicity had come to terms with each other and hence, their relationship was born. And soon, so will a product of their unfurling love.

'Boy, he was a toughie,' a loud voice rang through the hollow walls of the basement. 'Good thing no one got hurt.'

Oliver, Diggle and Roy appeared, descending the shadowed staircase, swaying with tire and triumph. 

'I guess being grazed by a bullet doesn't count as being 'hurt',' Roy scoffed and grabbed the First Aid kit to meet the needs of the bloody patch on his lower rib. 

The two older men choked out a strangled chuckle. 'Trust me, it doesn't,' the Arrow himself chipped in, ripping off his tight leather attire with a sharp exhale. He winced quietly, but Felicity caught it. 

'Oh my gosh, you're hurt too,' she fussed and stood up suddenly. Unlike Oliver, she had grown accustomed to perfecting the art of disguising any form of internal pain, simply to hide the fact that she was carrying another human being within her. With a quick tug of her blazer, she stood up and strode across the floor to meet him, ready to inspect and aid. 

Oliver pressed his lips into a thin line before snatching a few bits from the already-coveted First Aid kit. He dabbed gently on his wound and persisted until the pain subsided, too focused to notice Felicity's peculiarly round stomach. She took the gauze dressing from his fingertips and pressed it tenderly against his vulnerable flesh. Under her feathery touch, Oliver sighed and relaxed against the bench. Behind them Diggle and Roy cleared up and eagerly left the two of them alone to sort things out.

 

 

 

**_6 Months Ago_ **

_"I don't know if I can hide this any longer, Felicity," he whispered harshly under his breath._

_The girl glanced up from her computer and swivelled around to meet Oliver, shirtless and his back to her, placing away his nightly attire. She slipped her aching feet out of her pumps and stood up, stretching her long-idle legs._

_"What are you hiding, Oliver?"_

_Still facing the glass cabinet, Felicity watched as his shoulders sagged with a deep breath. His hand lingered on the shelf, as if he was reluctant to turn around and face her. But little old Felicity, who could be so afraid of her? Only Oliver. Only the man with irrevocable, irredeemable emotions revolving around Felicity Smoak._

_He turned around, surprising Felicity with a stern frown and stormy eyes. "Let's have a drink first."_

_She watched as he manoeuvred around the boxes hidden in the shadows of the foundry, until he reappeared into the dim, ominous glow of green. The man behind the hood had recovered a green crate, the one she had seldom encountered and the one ensconcing a million secrets the man himself did not dare resurface. Five feet behind, Felicity observed how he carefully rummaged around in the depths of the container, listening to the hissing rustle of something inside. She felt almost unworthy to peek over his shoulder, so she remained grounded a safe distance away.  
_

_Oliver cradled a clear bottle of an alcoholic beverage with two tumblers and brought it to her. 'A gift of mine from Russian friends,' he explained bitterly before pouring them a glass each. Then he held one out to Felicity, who had remained silent, and under his hoarse breath he toasted in Russian._

_It stung her tongue, and it took every ounce of her to wipe the grimace off her face, but Oliver had downed the entire thing in one go. He hastily poured himself another, and another and was about to pour a fourth before Felicity grabbed it and placed the tumbler firmly on the bench._

_'Would you mind telling me what's going on with you?'_

_He was a coward and he knew it. No league of assassins, drug-strung psychos or immortal, impeccable fighters could make him tremble the way she did. Felicity blinked._

_'I need you to listen to me.'_

_'Always.'_

 

 

 

'Felicity, you're doing that thing again,' Oliver sighed while placing a hand on her squared shoulders. He ducked his head to meet her at eye level, a somewhat condescending gesture, but a gesture of concern nevertheless. 

'What thing? Oh, you mean, the staring at your bloody patch and mentally burning holes into it? Wait, burning holes would make it worse, and then it'd make the entire room smell of barbecued flesh. That's not my point, but--'

'Yes, you've been staring at my wound for quite a moment there. Is everything alright?'

'Hm? Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm great! Super awesome,' she trailed off, spinning on her heels and turning away. But his hand on her shoulder, with an effortless pull of his wrist, spun her back around. He was inescapable.

'I know you're pregnant, Felicity,' he murmured carefully but bluntly. 'We've all known. For someone who has exceptional intellect, you're very bad at disguising your body. Which, I must add, is very understandable.'

With a resigned sigh she failed to meet his eye. 'Then why didn't you confront me earlier? I'm six months pregnant.'

'Because we all thought you'd make the announcement first. We knew that you'd come out with it when you were ready, but I thought maybe you'd tell me first before anyone else.'

'I know, I know, I've just been really nervous and busy and . . . what was I supposed to do? Barge into the foundry one Tuesday morning and exclaim 'hey y'all, I'm pregnant'?' She squeaked, using an array of wild hand motions. A stray lock of hair fell languidly from her uptight ponytail. Oliver tucked it behind her ear.

'Is it a boy or a girl?'

'I'm having a girl.'

'You mean, 'we're' having a girl. I did the math Felicity.'

'I guess I should announce it formally,' she suggested with a weak grin before clearing her throat. 'Oliver, you're going to be a father, and  _we're_ going to have a daughter. Would you have the pleasure and honour of raising this wonderful girl by my side?' She begged, leaning closer into him and widening her irresistible eyes. Oliver had no choice but to concede, that was if he had another option.

'With my life,' he replied with a grin before closing the gap between their lips. A soft, tender kiss to seal the ultimate deal of parenthood, with none other than his beloved. Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen were going to be proud parents of a very lucky girl. 

'Are you not scared about raising a child? Did you honestly think I was going to let you do this on you own?'

'I'm not scared. It's not going to run smoothly, it never is, but I made-- we made this child and I love you Oliver. And now I love her too. There was the chance that you were going to leave me, but it didn't matter. If you wanted to be a dad, it would be great but--'

'No buts. I'm her dad and that's that.'

 


End file.
